Chapter 20 Constance tossed aside her designer ..

4 yrs

Chapter 20

Constance tossed aside her designer clothes and instead wore the clothes she enjoyed on her ski trips, wearing even more layers than she would have on the slopes. She stuffed her backpack with extra clothes, the last of her food (a box of crackers and a bag of carrots she found at the back of her refrigerator once everything else had been eaten in it; they were edible, although chewy), and certain personal effects she might need if she did not return to her apartment for a long time. Or ever.

As she walked out, she grabbed a ski pole from the back of her closet. It was all that she had that could possibly be used as a weapon. She reckoned it was better than nothing.

Though it was relatively early in the morning, there were still many people out on the streets. Folks had retired to their lairs to sleep, but the cold was such that they were eager to fire up their bonfires and kindle the barrel flames. The miscreants had fleeced them all of their valuables within a few days of the disappearance of the police, so, in general, people were being left alone. Still, Constance walked quickly and with purpose to the New York Times Building.

Making her way through the Jersey barriers, she was surprised to find heavily armed men inside the lobby. These turned out to be contractors, hired to provide security. She showed her identification and they let her inside without any problems. With the elevators down, there was no choice but to take the stairs. She was in pretty good shape, all things considered, but she still stopped to catch her breath before presenting herself to her peers.

There had been a skeleton crew the last time she had been here, but now there were even less. Thankfully, her boss was in. Without visiting anyone else or messing around at the worthless coffee bar, she strode over to his office. She knocked, and without waiting for a reply, let herself in and sat down.

“How things been?” her editor said.

“It isn’t pretty,” she said.

“Got enough food to eat? Have you been safe?” the editor asked, glancing at her ski pole.

“I’ve been fine, although I’ve seen some nasty things. Where did New York’s Finest go?”

“It is a good question. If we were putting out a paper, I’d put one of my best reporters on the job. I have been working the sat phone, though. It sounds like New York isn’t the only place that has seen local law enforcement disappear,” he said.

“Yea, about that phone. That’s why I am here. Can I use it again? My contact warned me to get out of the city. I should have. I’m hoping he can give me some more intel.”

“The phone isn’t exactly meant for personal use, but if you promise to eventually splash it on our front page, we’ll let it slide,” he said, handing her the phone.

“Thanks a million,” she said. “I’ll get this back to you, soon.”

She excused herself and went to her office, shutting the door behind her. She dialed up her contact’s number. After a few rings, he picked up.

“Constance. You’ve survived,” he said. She couldn’t tell if he was merely stating it as an observation or if there was any relief in his tone of voice.

“Yea. You weren’t kidding about getting out of the city. I’m stuck here now. Any ideas on how to get out?” she asked.

“You’re a bit S.O.L right now. Did you get down to Red Hook?” he asked.

“Yes, as a matter of fact I did. About that. They said that there was a national trucker strike which started all of this. Did you know about that?”

He noted well the hint of accusation. “Yes, of course.”

“How can that be, and yet someone in my position hadn’t heard a lick about it?”

She heard him sigh. “Constance, Constance, Constance. Do you still not understand? I am the Mockingbird, you are my song. You didn’t know anything about it because folks like me made sure you never heard about it. We kept it out of all the big news outlets. Our goal was to resolve it and then have it get out afterwards, but as you see, we failed to resolve it. Of course, outside the cities, it was an open secret.”

“I don’t understand. If there had been anything about this, I would have heard. Social media would have been on fire,” she protested.

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He laughed. “Don’t you remember what you said, Constance? You said, ‘You have a right to speak, but not a right to escape any consequences’? You and thousands just like you said things like this. You made sure people lost their jobs and their livelihoods. Now, millions of people have decided to take you up on your offer. You have spoken, and now you are enduring the consequences of your speech. Or, what about when you said, ‘People have a right to speak, but not a right to be heard.’ You said that. They’ve turned this on its head, and said, ‘If they won’t listen, we won’t bother to tell them.’ They warned you this was coming. You and your friends booted them all off of the mainstream social media sites and suppressed their speech everywhere you could, and so you did not hear what they were saying. What they were planning. I, of course, heard. But almost everything they’ve done has been completely legal. They’ve simply decided not to do business with those who voted for the Harris-Biden ticket. And the cities, in the main, are a good proxy for identifying who those people are.”

“But they can’t do what they’re doing, can they?”

“You set the terms of engagement. They’ve just decided to accept them,” he said.

“What does that mean?”

“Well, there are a thousand things that you and your ilk did to them simply because you could, and now they are returning the favor. The difference, of course, is that what you did was actually against the law, flying in the face of the plain language of legislation and the Constitution itself, whereas they’ve just decided to quit their jobs. What are you going to do? Make them go to work? It isn’t a national trucker’s strike, Constance. It’s a national everything strike.”

Constance didn’t feel like arguing about it anymore. “Ok, fine, whatever. Do you have any advice for how I can get out of here?”

“Don’t go to Jersey, I can tell you that. Your best bet would be to try to head north across the Harlem River. Lots of bridges there. You might be able to bribe your way across one. Then, go to Connecticut or upstate. If you can get out of the city at all. Believe it or not, the safest thing to do would be to try to find a boat. Cars are out of the question right now. But you might find someone in a boat. Go south. May as well head for warmth if you have the choice. Go to Virginia; North Carolina or farther would be better. You don’t want to be anywhere near Jersey, Delaware, Maryland, or D.C. And whatever else you do, I suggest lying about who you voted for for president.”

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He laughed.  “Don’t you remember what you said, Constance?  You said, ‘You have a right to speak, but not a right to escape any consequences’?  You and thousands just like you said things like this.  You made sure people lost their jobs and their livelihoods.  Now, millions of people have decided to take you up on your offer.  You have spoken, and now you are enduring the consequences of your speech.  Or, what about when you said, ‘People have a right to speak, but not a right to be heard.’  You said that.  They’ve turned this on its head, and said, ‘If they won’t listen, we won’t bother to tell them.’  They warned you this was coming.  You and your friends booted them all off of the mainstream social media sites and suppressed their speech everywhere you could, and so you did not hear what they were saying.  What they were planning.  I, of course, heard.  But almost everything they’ve done has been completely legal.  They’ve simply decided not to do business with those who voted for the Harris-Biden ticket. And the cities, in the main, are a good proxy for identifying who those people are.” 
 
“But they can’t do what they’re doing, can they?” 
 
“You set the terms of engagement.  They’ve just decided to accept them,” he said. 
 
“What does that mean?” 
 
“Well, there are a thousand things that you and your ilk did to them simply because you could, and now they are returning the favor.  The difference, of course, is that what you did was actually against the law, flying in the face of the plain language of legislation and the Constitution itself, whereas they’ve just decided to quit their jobs.  What are you going to do?  Make them go to work?  It isn’t a national trucker’s strike, Constance.  It’s a national everything strike.” 
 
Constance didn’t feel like arguing about it anymore.  “Ok, fine, whatever.  Do you have any advice for how I can get out of here?” 
 
“Don’t go to Jersey, I can tell you that.  Your best bet would be to try to head north across the Harlem River.  Lots of bridges there.  You might be able to bribe your way across one.  Then, go to Connecticut or upstate.  If you can get out of the city at all.  Believe it or not, the safest thing to do would be to try to find a boat.  Cars are out of the question right now.   But you might find someone in a boat.  Go south.  May as well head for warmth if you have the choice.  Go to Virginia; North Carolina or farther would be better.  You don’t want to be anywhere near Jersey, Delaware, Maryland, or D.C.  And whatever else you do, I suggest lying about who you voted for for president.”

4 yrs

The Corn Siege

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